


Two Pines for the price of one

by BrilliantLight



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brothers, Parental Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantLight/pseuds/BrilliantLight
Summary: "I just wish that sometimes... I didn't have to deal with my parents. Like if I never had to see them again I'd be happy... But that's just wishful thinking. Right?"Little did Ford know he'd get exactly what he wished for. But he didn't think about the consequences.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

The cup in his hands felt oddly real. He traced the rim of the teacup, staring at the matching blue of the chessboard in front of him, glowing like almost everything in the mindscape. He stared at Bill's queen, which was a bit too close to his king for Ford's liking. Whatever strategy Bill was using, if he even had one, seemed to be stumping Ford's at every turn. It was... exhilarating. He'd never had an opponent like Bill. 

He found his eyes slipping up to Bill, who was letting his cup float up next to his top hat. Bill's eyes flicked up to Ford, and the triangle seemed to smile at him. "You're getting better here Sixer," Bill said, sliding a pawn forward. Ford smiled back, a sense of pride bringing a light flush to his cheeks. "I've had a great friend to teach me." He said, resting a finger on one of his rooks. 

Bill laughed, "Nah, it's all you. You need to start taking pride in your accomplishments. Man, your dad really messed you up." Ford's head jerked up at Bill's sentence, which had just come out of the blue. "I... I don't know what you're talking about." He said, letting go of his piece and leaning back. Bill snorted (how did he do that?! He didn't have a nose!) and rolled his eye. "That's what you think IQ." 

"I mean... We didn't have the best relationship..." Ford admitted, watching Bill make his next move. "And..." Bill sighed, looking at Ford and not the board. "And?" he asked, as Ford shifted uncomfortably. His mindscape seemed to notice this shift in emotions and began turning a sickly red. "And I sometimes wish that he'd stop bugging me about my studies," Ford said, making another move. "And how I wish my mom would stop badgering me about getting back in touch with Stanley-" 

Bill stared at him, the game momentarily forgotten. "Why don't you just cut them out of your life?" He asked truthfully. Ford laughed, "Trust me. I tried. But I'm afraid they'd come and physically get me to try to... I don't know, do what they want me to." His mindscape was now very red, and Bill did his best not to smile at him. "So? You're an adult, force them to go away!" 

"Believe me," Ford said, taking a deep sip of his drink. "I'd love for them to just... disappear. But that's not possible. I'd love to never see them again, have them drop off the face of the earth or something. But that's not for me to decide. And you can't do anything about it, as you said, you're limited to just helping me with this portal." 

At the mention of their project Ford's eyes widened. "What are we doing!? Bill, you said I was behind. Now Fiddleford said that-" The glare Bill was sending the board caught Ford by surprise. "Bill?" He asked, and Bill glanced up at him. "It's nothing." The triangular muse said, brushing Ford's worry for his friend aside, Ford's mindscape turning a pale purple. "You're right buddy. We do need to get back to the portal. Checkmate by the way..."


	2. Blue and red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the kudos I've received already! You guys rock! If you like this please feel free to let me know! Enjoy this next chapter. (Also creds to whoever figures out the cipher first)

It was just another prank, another night that he snuck out of the house. Another fling, another girl, another day in the life of Sherman Pines. But of course, it wasn't that simple.

He woke up at about three am, to the sound of his buddy, Steve, shaking his arms and saying, "Sherman. Sherman wake up! The coppers are outside!" In an instant he was awake, his adrenaline rushing. "The cops? What are they doing here?" he asked, shoving himself up onto his skinny arms. Steve shrugged, barely visible in the dim light. "Dunno, but my sister says they're looking for you." 

Sherman let out a cuss word, "Dad probably called them. Stupid f-" He cut his sentence off as Steve's sister, Hannah, stepped into the room. Her brown eyes landed on him, filled with dread. "I dunno what happened Sherm, but they sounded... weird, for cops." She rubbed her hands together, looking like she wanted to cry or something. Sherman sat up, puffing his chest to make him look big and manly, and stood up from the bed. 

"Don't worry Hannah, I'll talk to them." He stepped past her, doing his best to keep his chest puffed. The look of shock and gratitude that she sent him was plenty enough reward for him to step out of the room and to the front door of Steve and Hannah's parent's house. 

Sure enough, two tall, buff-looking police officers stood outside of the house, looking gravely serious. Sherman glanced back at his friends, who were watching him wide-eyed, and he breathed in before saying, "Uh... What's the matter officers?" 

The two cops shared a glance at each other, then the one on the left, a blonde man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, said in a deep and serious voice, "Is your name Sherman Franklin Pines?" Flinching a bit at the mention of his middle name Sherman nodded before responding, "Yessir." The officer gave him a look of pity before saying, "I'm sorry to say, but there was an accident at-" 

A ringing began to pick up in Sherman's ears, the only thing he registered was the cop's voice droning on about a fire, and how everything was gone, and Hannah's hands wrapping around his arm as the two officers talked about other things about his house. 

"What about Mr. and Mrs. Pines?" Steve asked, stepping up next to his sister and friend. Sherman stared dully forward as Hannah leaned her head against his shoulder. The officer looked at the young boy and said in a severe voice, "I'm afraid I cannot tell you... At least without an adult present." Steve stiffened, glancing at Sherman and his sister before saying, "I'll be right back." 

The boy rushed up the stairs, returning a few silent minutes later with a disheveled woman, who was obviously his mother. "What?" she asked, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "I'm sorry, what's happening Steven? Why are there cops-"

"Ma'am, are you Mrs. Kindly?" the blonde police officer asked, as Steve's mother nodded. Sherman still stared deadpanned forward, and she asked, "Why are you here Sherman? Aren't you supposed to be with your parents?"

"Actually ma'am, it's a good thing he wasn't." the other officer, with longish red hair, said. "If he was at his house he would have been dead.

"Just like his parents." 

========================================================================================= 

Fiddleford looked up at his friend, who was busy pouring coffee into a... bowl of cereal? Eh, he'd seen weirder from Stanford. Ford looked simultaneously well-rested, and completely sleep deprived. He smiled at Fiddleford though, and began to chow down on his decidedly bitter bran. 

The two young scientists had long since come up with a pact, 'I have my weird eating habits, you have yours', and had left each other to provide sustenance for themselves. Fiddleford himself was eating a bowl of oatmeal, something that reminded him of his wife's breakfasts all the way back in Palo Alto, and he'd placed a generous amount of brown sugar inside. 

He slid a pile of double-checked calculations over to Ford, who mumbled his way through a thanks and began to read as he ate. Overall the day was pretty much the same kind as every other day in the past year. 

That was when the phone rang. 

Ford sighed, mumbling about how 'it better not be his mother again', and shoved his chair away from the table, scraping against the wood floor as he stepped into the kitchen, where the phone was located. Fiddleford watched from the table as Ford picked up the receiver and held it up to his ear. "Hello, this is Stanford Pines," he said, sounding less upbeat than he usually did. 

Whatever the person on the other end said seemed to make Ford's down mood even worse. His entire body began to quiver slightly as he said in an unbelieving tone, "No... No sir... That's... That can't be..." 

His blue eyes flew up and nearly collided with Fiddleford's, his face dropped, so much it looked like he was frowning. His left arm, which was the one that wasn't holding the phone, dropped to his side, completely limp. 

"Sir, do you mind... repeating that?" Ford asked, sounding almost absolutely broken. Fiddleford raised his eyebrows, as Ford held a hand up to his mouth. "Oh..." was all that Ford said after that. Then a hopeless realization passed through him. "Sir," he said, breathing steadily, "I have a brother... he's about twelve. His name is Sherman. Is he okay? Was he... was he present... or injured." 

A relieved sigh passed through Ford, and he slumped backward, running his left hand through his hair. "Thank goodness... May I speak to him?" A moment of silence followed before Ford said, "Yes, this is Ford." 

Ford closed his eyes, sighing and saying, "No Sherman. I'm going to come get you... Woah, slow down... Sherman... Hey, hey, Sherman... It's going to be okay." Whatever Sheman said seemed to shock Ford as he opened his mouth and let out one last, "Sherman-" before the unmistakable sound of a phone hanging up filled the room. 

"What in tarnation was that?" Fiddleford asked as Ford stood still, still holding the phone and staring off into space. Ford slumped down, moving to sit on the floor of the kitchen as Fiddleford moved next to him. He shook his head for a moment, before dropping the phone. 

"Fiddleford... That was the Glass Shard Police Department..." Ford said in a monotone voice, still staring into nowhere, "My parents... are dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VQ DCF UQ UCF


	3. Chapter 3

Sherman sat in the funeral home, the suit he'd been loaned from one of his friends feeling a bit too snug on his limber frame, but he was still too much in shock to do anything about it. In his mind there was absolutely no reason to have a funeral, his parents' bodies had been burned to a crisp, and there was no way to truly tell that they were the shell of Filbrick and Caryn Pines. 

He wanted to scream. 

Everything about this seemed wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! This wasn't supposed to be like this! Why were there people who Sherman had never seen before standing around, crying, telling each other what a tragedy it was, how his parents didn't deserve this, how sorry they felt for Sherman and his brother. Why were they here?! What purpose could this have!? They didn't even know his parents! Or if they did they certainly shouldn't care. Although Sherman agreed that his mom didn't deserve this he couldn't bring himself to think that his father didn't. No. No! No! No. No! No...

Holding his head in his hands he focused on not breaking down on the couch. There were dozens, if not a hundred, people all around him, and he was feeling claustrophobic. He stared at the green diamond-patterned rug on the ground, and made quick breaths, feeling like he wasn't getting enough oxygen. 

Suddenly a shadow passed over the floor, but he didn't look up to see who had cast it. He could practically feel the heavy eyes of whoever it was landing on him, but he just couldn't bring himself to care about who it was. 

Then, as suddenly as the figure appeared, a voice came from where the man (and it was a man)'s head was supposed to be. "You're Sherman, correct?" 

He lifted his head, glancing up at the man's black suit. The man had a thin frame, and his hands were shoved in his front pockets. He nodded, and stared at the bottom buttons of the suitcoat. "Hey." The man shifted nervously, something obviously tugging at his mind. His left hand left its resting place and was extended out to Sherman. Sherman looked up at it, and snapped out, "Look man, I dunno what you want me to-"

His eyes trailed up and met the man's face, and Sherman nearly passed out from shock. The man looked almost identical to his father. He had brown hair that was combed to the side, and sideburns, his chin was a bit flatter, but he was nearly a clone of his father. He gripped the couch he was sitting in as the man dropped his hand. "Oh." Was all that Sherman said, as the man, who had to be his brother, sighed. 

"So... This was not the greatest first impression." His brother said, shoving his hand back in his pocket. "But it's better than some of the others I've seen today. May I sit?" Sherman shrugged as Stanford sat down on his right. "Can you believe Aunt Ariel, pretending to be all sad." Stanford whispered, "Just admit that dad was a jerk and get over it." 

Sherman's head jerked up at that, he looked over at his brother, who smiled sadly at him. "Yup. I said it. At his own funeral no doubt! Ha! And he said I never had a spine." Stanford shook his head, "Jokes on him I guess." Sherman's jaw dropped, then he said in a quiet voice, "You sound a lot different on the phone... I didn't recognize you." 

"That's what two thousand miles'll do to you." Stanford said, sighing, "I would have been here sooner, but it look a lot longer than anticipated. Felt a lot longer too, I mean, what kind of music do you listen to when you're driving to a funeral?" Sherman shrugged, finding himself staring at his brother's face. "I thought you didn't have a car." he said, sitting up straighter, "Mom said that it got stolen." 

"Smashed more like. Steve likes to play with stuff like that. Cars are less squishy than deer." Stanford said, looking up at the other guests, his eyes lingered on an old couple who were blowing their noses comically. "I borrowed a friend's car, he's watching my- well, our house while I'm gone." Just before Sherman could say another word the figure of a middle-aged woman came up to them. 

She held a hand out to Ford, who stared at her with wide eyes. "Hey... Ford... I'm sorry about your parents... that sucks..." she said, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, "And I'm sorry for... Being mean to you way back then." Ford blinked at her, then grasped her hand for a moment. "Thank you Cathy." he said in a deadpanned voice. Cathy winced, dropping her hand to her black skirt. "Look Ford, for what it's worth, I think you look... nice." 

At that she spun around, walking away, her small heels clicking on the floor. A light flush came to Stanford's cheeks, and Sherman glanced over at him. "Who's that?" he asked, as Stanford shook his head. "Stupid ghost." Stanford muttered, "Making me think that's she's still a jerk... She was ten..." Ford ran a hand down his face, then said, "What was I saying? Oh yeah, Fiddleford. He's watching out house right now." 

Sherman raised his eyebrows. "Our house?" Stanford nodded, "Well... I do have custody of you. Don't worry, there's a school where I live, and a university not too far away, and lots of woods, and a lake, and... I think a store? Well, there's a diner." He rubbed his neck, like he was pretending to be Cathy. "I have a lot of important reseach to do... Don't worry though, it's not too boring... I once arm wrestled a... Well, that's not something to be talking about-" He suddenly smacked his forehead with his hand. "Of course! Psychology! How are you handling this?" 

Taken aback by his brother's sentence Sherman shrank into himself. "I'm... Okay I guess... I've been living at my friends' house..." Stanford nodded, "Yes... I think they told me about that. Do you have anything you need to get from them? Any personal belongings I need to know about." 

Sherman shrugged. "Look Stanford, everything I owned went up in that fire. Except like my backpack. Other than that I'm good to go now." Stanford nodded again. There was a look in his eyes, a look that Sherman was having a hard time placing. It was... awkwardness. Stanford looked like he had no idea what he was doing. "Of course... I forgot about that. Uh... We can go get that. And say goodbye to your friends..." 

A nod was all the responce he got from his younger brother. Stanford sighed, gave Sherman an awkward pat on the shoulder, and said in a low voice, "And by the way, you can call me Ford."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VTAKPI VQ RKEM WR VJG RKGEGU? JQY EWVG


	4. Chapter 4

Fiddleford's car wasn't in the best shape. It still ran of course, but it was constantly making new weird sounds. Ford claimed that it was because Fiddleford wouldn't leave the poor machine alone, and that he'd tried to turn it into a robot or something. Sherman mentioned how Ford had weird friends, and his brother neither confirmed nor denied his suspicions. 

They spent the entire trip in near silence, their only stops being when Ford had to get gas, or Sherman reminded him that they needed to eat. Ford would take a power nap then, and they would continue driving. 

Sherman had barely left Glass Shard, much less New Jersey, so most of the time he watched the scenery, or pretended to read the books that Ford had brought. The entire time there was a tension in the air, like Sherman was wearing a pair of too-tight shoes. Ford was focused on the road, so focused that you might think it was the only thing that mattered to him. He kept mumbling equations to himself, then scolding his work, then theorizing about other things. 

It took them all of four days to cross the country, quite a feat if Sherman did say so himself. He had been fast asleep, slumped against the passenger window when Ford suddlenly shook his shoulder and said in a quiet and tender voice, "Hey, Sherman, we're home." 

Maybe it was his blurry eyes. Maybe it was the fact he'd gotten no more than six hours of sleep the entire trip, but the place Ford had driven them to looked like a wreck. It wasn't a complete disaster, but Sherman couldn't help but wonder how the place was still standing. The look Ford had upon seeing his house was a tender and loving one, like it was his baby or something. Blegh. 

Ford got out of the car, walking to the trunk and pulling out his small carry-on, and Sherman's backpack. Sherman opened his door groggily, shivering in the crisp autumn air. Oregon was a lot colder than New Jersey. Pulling his gray jacket closer to him he trudged after his brother silently, not even noticing all of the seemingly strange things about him. 

Ford shooed away an overall-wearing creature, that bounded away on all fours like a large squirrel. "Stupid Gnomes..." He muttered, putting his suitcase down and opening the door. Sherman stared dully at the wood of the porch, but looked up as a warm rush of air flooded from the house, bringing a warm light. The smell of something utterly delicious met his nostrils and his stomach gave a growl of desire. 

His brother stepped inside, placing their bags on the floor next to the door. "Fiddleford!" he called out, waving Sherman in and shutting the door behind him, "We're home!" 

A moment later a thin man in a white labcoat walked into the room. He was wearing an apron, whose bright colors were offensive to the eyes. Sherman found his gaze torn between the bright purple and green of the apron, and the man's freakishly long nose. "Stanferd," the man said, giving Ford a small smile. "It's good to see you back 'gain. I made soup." Ford nodded, "Thank you Fiddleford." He said, and his friend nodded back. 

"And you must be Sherman," Fiddleford said, extending a hand out to the young boy in question. "Fiddleford H. McGucket, at your service. I've been friends with yer brother Stanferd since college." Sherman nodded dully, grasping his hand briefly before dropping it. "Hi." he said, looking at Ford. "Uh... Can we eat now?" 

Fiddleford smiled, even wider than before. "Are you sure you two are related? Ford would've let the thing burn before askin'." Ford rolled his eyes. "I would not." he said, indignation in his voice. Fiddleford sighed, "'Course ya would've." 

Ford shook his head, awkwardly placing a hand on Sherman's shoulder. "Food actually sounds nice right now. But first we should freshen up... If you'll excuse us Fiddleford." 

Within a minute of entering the room, Ford rushed Sherman out of it, leaving their stuff with Fiddleford. The man led his brother into a seemingly random room on the first floor, and shut the door behind them. Sherman was met with a small-ish room with a L sofa in the middle, a desk littered with trophies and awards, and the back of a picture frame. Sherman raised an eyebrow, wondering how they were supposed to 'freshen' up in a room like this. 

"Sherman, sit down, please." Ford said, motioning for the couch. Sherman obliged, sitting and crossing his arms over his chest. "Shermie..." 

"Don't call me Shermie." Sherman snapped, almost hissing. "I hate that name." Ford blinked in surprise and started again. "Sherman, I'm... Well..." Man, with every word Ford said he only made the situation worse. Sherman rolled his eyes and said, "Look Ford. I get it. You're a weird science guy with weird science friends. I'm a normal teenager. I'm just living in your house. I'll stay out of your way, you'll stay out of mine. You'll ship me off to high school or whatever, and we'll live our normal, seperate lives." 

Ford stared at him dumbfounded for a minute, before shaking his head and snapping, "What on earth makes you think I want that?" 

Sherman rolled his eyes. "Oh, I dunno. The fact that I've talked to you twice in my entire life, which you would have completely ignored if it wasn't for... wasn't for... For mom and dad." He stood up, keeping his arms crossed and leaning back. "Admit it, you don't care about me, and you're keeping me here out of some weird moral obligation. You don't want a kid! If you did you would have gotten married and made one! And you most certainly don't want a brother. That's why you abandoned me." 

He might as well have slapped Ford in the face for the look he got from his brother. Ford breathed in quickly, then said, "Sherman... I... I didn't... I never..." 

"Save it for someone who cares." Sherman snapped, turning towards the door and walking towards it. "Now I'm eating soup with your friend. At least he has a reason for never having talked to me before." And with that he swept out of the room, leaving his stunned brother in his wake. 

All Ford could do was turn and look at the place he had last seen his brother. "What have I done?" he whispered, a feeling growing in him that he hadn't felt in fifteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QQRU UQOGQPG OGUUGF WR


	5. Chapter 5

"And then he just stormed out of the room." Ford glared at his teacup, the edges of his mindscape turning red. Bill gave him a commiserating look, pouring more interdimensional tea into Ford's cup. "Wow, what a jerk." the triangle said, prompting Ford to shake his head, "He's young. His emotions are getting the best of him." He sighed, long and hard, and took a swig of his drink, knocking the cup back and downing the tea in one gulp. 

Bill nodded, patting Ford's hand, "Man, you just have the worst of luck with brothers." he said getting Ford to nod. The human stared sadly at the cup, and muttered, "I can't help but wonder... if maybe Sherman would do better with Stanley. He seems a lot more like him, and I never quite understood him... I wish I could just dissect his mind!" He groaned and rubbed his right eye with the palm of his hand. Bill laughed, "That's easy Sixer! You cut the skull open, then the squishy stuff is basically putty in your hands after that!" Ford sent him a glare, but Bill laughed it off. "I'm joking of course." Bill said, and Ford nodded. "Of course. Fratricide is not something I want on my record." 

Another round of tea was given out then, which Ford drank slower than the last four. Bill ruffled through piles of papers (it wasn't exactly necessary, that was just how Ford resonated with information) and pulled out a set of nasty looking equations. "Anyway, here's the charge flux capacitor settings." Bill handed it to Ford, who blinked at the numbers and letters. "Once again you have surpassed me Bill... I was way off." Ford traced a finger down the page, a small smile on his face. "I was off by a good 7.5." Bill rolled his eyes. "At least you can do math." he said, and Ford raised his eyebrows. "Why?" 

"Oh nothing," Bill said, seeming to smile at his human friend. "Anyway, let's have a small change of scenery." Ford's cup, along with Bill's and the teapot, evaporated, and Bill swept his hands out in front of him. A flurry of lines, drawing familiar blueprints, numbers, hypotheses, and pretty much everything else having to do with the portal, flowed around them, surrounding the scientist and his muse. Ford's eyes grew wide, and a goofy smile tugged at his lips. "Bill... this is amazing." Ford breathed, reaching out to faze his hand through a drawing of the portal. 

Bill smiled at his friend. "Of course Stanford. I made it after all." Ford laughed, a smitten tone in his voice. "Wow. I always seem to underestimate you." he said, turning towards Bill, who nodded. "Of course you do. Everyone does."

========================================================================

Sherman stared at the other end of the room that had been deemed his bedroom. There was a large rectangular section of the far wall that was definitely a whole lot darker than the rest of the wall. Knowing his brother there was almost certainly a bookshelf that used to be there. Sherman was glad that Ford had taken it out of his room, if it was to be Sherman's, it wasn't that he didn't like to read, he just didn't like books consuming his life. 

Speaking of consuming his life, just who did Ford think he was?! Wanting to grow a relationship with Sherman now? He was fifteen for Pete's sake! Ford was just a stubborn jerk who didn't understand anyone's feelings except his own. If he really cared about Sherman he would have shown it before... before... before their parents just had to get blown up! 

Feeling the urge to scream Sherman grabbed the pillow off of the mattress on the floor that was going to serve as his bed. He threw it against the wall, feeling... unsatisfied by the dull 'thwump' it made on the wood. Breathing hard he stood up, walking over to pick up the pillow. 

But before he could reach down to pick it up a light rapping sounded from the closed door. "Go away Ford!" Sherman hissed, loud enough that whoever it was could hear him. 

"One problem with that." A southern-accented voice sounded from the other side of the door, "It's Fiddleford, can I come in Sherman?" Sherman grit his teeth. Fiddleford. He had almost forgotten. He didn't have any qualms with him, so he guessed it would be okay. But if he tried to get him to be buddy-buddy with Ford... let's just say he had another think coming. "Yes." Sherman said, and watched as Fiddleford opened the door. 

In his hands he was holding a... wad of dollar bills? What was this? "Sherman, so I talked to my wife..." Fiddleford said, walking forward and holding out the cash to Sherman, "We know that Ford's finances... Well, grants don't exactly cover clothes." Nervously Sherman accepted the money from Fiddleford and silently counted all of them. Ten twenty-dollar bills... Sherman didn't think he'd ever held so much money in his life. 

"Is this for me?" Sherman breathed, and Fiddleford nodded. "Yes. We know that you lost evrythin' in that fire..." Sherman stared at him, then said, "You... Wow... Thanks Fiddleford..." Fiddleford smiled at him, patting his shoulder. "Don' mention it. Seriously, don't mention it ta my wife. She doesn't 'xactly know how much I gave ya." Sherman laughed, folding the bills over and shoving them in his pocket. 

Fiddleford sighed. "Alright, that was the easy part. Now we gotta convince your brother to let ya go shoppin'." Sherman smiled, tapping the side of his forehead, and said, "Don't worry about that Fidds. Even if he says no I can get there. I used to escape out of my house all the time, and I can get out of this one. Even if he locks me in the attic!"   
At that Fiddleford laughed, rolling his eyes. "I won't tell Stanferd then." he said, winking at Sherman and turning towards the door. "Bye Sherman!" 

Sherman waved, even though he knew Fiddleford couldn't see. He patted his pocket, thinking of the two hundred dollars now stored in there. "I like him." he whispered to himself, flopping down on the bed. "Now to go into town..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DTCV IGVVKPI RCKF DGECWUG JGU UCF? RCVGVKE CO K TKIJV?


	6. Chapter 6

Sherman stared at the lines of clothes surrounding him on all sides. After only five minutes of talking to Ford he had convinced his brother to take him to the blossoming Gravity Malls, and once there Ford had given Sherman free reign to buy pretty much whatever he wanted. 

Fiddleford came along, and Sherman found himself talking to the southern-speaking scientist rather than his brother. Ford was distant, following them a few feet away, never quite getting lost in the crowd, but looking like he wanted to. Sherman pretended not to notice him, and just walked right on up to any store he found interesting. 

The one he was in, called 'Too blue for school' held an impressive collection of clothes in every color except for blue. Feeling particularly spiteful Sherman picked out a few black shirts, and a neon yellow one that nearly matched his yellow shoes. Fiddleford liked the yellow shirt a lot, while Ford waved it off as just a quirk of Sherman's. Jerk. 

Sherman quickly found out that his brother detested low v-necks, and made a note of how many he bought. No less than five, and at a good price as well. Ford grumbled something to himself, but didn't mention anything to Sherman. There was a look in his eyes though, a look that Sherman wasn't entirely comfortable with. Especially when Sherman chose a red and white striped shirt, and bought it without a second's hesitation. 

Ford treated the three of them to some lunch, and then a round of dessert after that. Fiddleford chose sasparilla chews, Ford jelly beans (hadn't their mother mentioned something about that?) and Sherman took some gummy koalas. He almost chose toffee peanuts, but the look Ford sent the candy's way made Sherman feel like he might get punched if he took them, so he settled for his favorite instead. 

To Fiddleford's credit, he did try to make the outing as normal as possible. It was difficult with the Pines being adamant not to speak to each other, but he made do. He even succeeded in getting Sherman and Ford to agree on the topic of the most recent Ghost Bustifyers movie. It wasn't much, but hopefully it was a start. Sherman was fixed in his belief that Ford didn't deserve a second chance at their relationship, while Ford insisted that Sherman was just a brat (though not out loud). 

Overall, those were some of the longest hours the three of them had ever experienced. 

==========================================================

The portal was coming along swimmingly. Ford was catching up with Bill's expectations for it (with lots of help from Fiddleford and the triangle of course) and had successfully kept the project a secret from his brother. Ford didn't know what it was, but the idea of Sherman knowing about the device in the basement was simply offputting for him, and even though he knew it wouldn't be hidden forever he still did his best to keep his ward in the dark.

He found that ever since he'd started working on the portal he'd began to neglect his research of the rest of Gravity Falls. Even though he'['d been there for six years there were still a lot of things he had yet to discover. Since Sherman was adamant about keeping his distance from Ford the elder Pines had yet to even tell his brother about the strange oddities that had brought him to the town in the first place. 

Giving himself a break (after literally being dragged out of his study by Fiddleford) Ford found himself in the kitchen, Journal in one hand, and coffee in the other. He sipped his drink while reading one of his entries about (shockingly) the portal. 

Humming to himself he flipped a few pages forward with his pinky, he took another sip reading his most recent entry. He heard a small sound from in front of him, glancing up and seeing a hand leave the door. It was too blocky to be Fiddleford's, and his mind put two and two together before he could even blink. "Sherman?" he said quietly, the hand returning a moment later, followed by the face of his brother (man Sherman looked like Stan... it was almost painful). 

"What?" Sherman asked, not exactly a snap, but something. Ford swallowed, not entirely sure what the answer to Sherman's question really was. "I- Uh... Well..." He felt the intence desire to rub the back of his neck, but with both of his hands full he was left just blinking at him brother, who sighed and said, "Well... If you don't need me I'll get back to my stuff." 

"Wait!" His cry came out a bit too desperate for his liking, he nearly winced as Sherman sent him a tired glare. "I... Sherman, have I ever told you what I've been doing in Gravity Falls?" Sherman raised his eyebrows, then said, "Look bro, you've told me that dad was a jerk, and I'd live with you. Other than that no contact, remember?" Ford tensed for a second, then nodded. "Yes. Well, did mom ever tell you?"

His brother shook his head, glancing into the hall he was in, then back at Ford. He stepped into the kitchen, crossing his arms and staring at Ford. Even though it was just one person Ford still felt intensely uncomfortable. "Well. Ah... Uh... You know my birth defect." Sherman's eyebrows went up again, and he blinked. "Defect? Whoever told you it was a defect?" 

Ford blinked at him, and Sherman sighed, his face slacking. "Look Ford, from what I can tell, you had a sucky childhood. 'Cause what? You have a finger or two more than the 'normal' person? That's a stupid reason! Do you know how many people would love to have an extra finger? I'm sure it's a bunch!" Ford looked flabbergasted, and Sherman grew a smile. "Just because you don't look just like everyone else doesn't mean that you have a defect, you'd have a defect if your fingers didn't work. They do. You're like the special edition human." the boy shrugged, then said, "I'm normal, so no one expects a lot from me. No one pays Sherman Pines any attention, unless something like my parents getting blown up happens. But you, no, they pay attention to you because you're special. Everyone knows it." 

There was a small period of silence that passed through the room. Ford stared slackjawed at his brother, who rolled his eyes. "Woah. It's like you've never met a sensible person before." Sherman said, prompting Ford to laugh. "Wow... Sherman... Uh... thanks." Ford stammered out, shutting his Journal and placing it on the counter. Sherman shrugged, rolling his eyes a bit. "No problem Twelve. Anyway... You were saying about your hands?" 

"Oh." was all that Ford said. At that he shook his head, picked his Journal back up, and stepped out of the room, leaving a stunned Sherman behind. "Uh... Catch you later?" Sherman asked, getting silence in response. 

===============================================================

"And then he lectured me about how my hands aren't a defect." Ford said, running his metaphorical hands through his imaginary hair. Bill 'gasped' and said, "No he did not. Wait. Is that a good thing?" Ford sighed, holding his hypothetical head in his hands. "I don't know! On one hand it's sweet of him, on the other I don't think he quite has grasped the concept, and he seemed upset at me for thinking it was something that he believed it wasn't!" 

Bill pat Ford's arm, "Wow. You're brother really is something." Ford nodded, dropping his hands to his lap. "I know. I don't know what to make of him. I was going to tell him about my research, but he caught me so off guard that I didn't know what to do. I came straight here to get your opinion." He sent a pleading look to his muse, who smiled (how did he smile? He didn't have a mouth!) and said, "Of course." 

The triangle held a finger up right above his bowtie, and Ford watched him carefully, like any movement the otherwordly being did would grant him knowledge. "Well..." Bill said, scrunching his eye, like he was deep in thought. "He's obviously nosy, and as you said he shouldn't be getting into stuff like the portal... Just tell him that you've been studying the town, and leave the Journals out of it. Wouldn't want him stumbling on the portal or, myself forbid, ME." 

Ford nodded, his eyes dimming, "Of course... What was I thinking... That you BIll." Bill nodded at his friend. "Course Sixer. Anything for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ECP AQW VTWUV JKO? PCJ AQWTG DGVVGT QHH YKVJ OG

**Author's Note:**

> KO LWUV FQKPI YJCV UKZGT YCPVGF
> 
> Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.


End file.
